


Cherry Pie, You’re Not As Cute As Me

by roughvoiced



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fingerfucking, Food Sex, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Popsicles, Rimming, Smut, Spanking, i think you can work the rest out for urself, popsicles and butts, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughvoiced/pseuds/roughvoiced
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve had popsicles hundreds of times before, Harry.”</p><p>“Not up your arse you haven’t.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Pie, You’re Not As Cute As Me

**Author's Note:**

> i am aware that another version of this fic already exists somewhere but tbh ever since i saw the idea ive been wanting to write it myself so. this is also like, 10,000 times cheesier than i expected in parts so im sorry for that. anyway.
> 
> ([tumblr post](http://larrytrash.tumblr.com/post/109585983049/larrytrash-title-cherry-pie-youre-not-as-cute).)

What Harry actually does at the supermarket always has been, and most likely always will be, a complete and utter mystery to Louis. _Just popping to the shops_ Harry’d said on his way out of the bedroom a good half an hour ago, half a leg inside his jeans as he hopped around trying to pull them all the way up, very nearly almost falling face first into Louis’ crotch at the same time and like, Louis wouldn’t have a problem with it except they just did the grocery shopping two days ago and no one is coming over for tea and they haven’t run out of anything important so Louis just doesn’t _get it_.

He’s still on the sofa when Harry finally gets back, well on his way to finishing his fourth cup of tea. He’s only wearing one of Harry’s thin band shirts and a pair of boxers, some of the slipper socks Lottie got him for Christmas a few years ago on his feet, red and fluffy and there should be a big Santa head stuck to the top of each one with Velcro but one of them went missing at a hotel in Sweden and one of Zayn’s dogs chewed the other one up along with the little rubber bits that are meant to be stuck on the bottom to stop him from sliding on the laminate.

“Hiya,” Harry says with a little wave as he toes off his shoes in the hallway but then he goes straight into the kitchen with his carrier bags instead of dropping them down by the little cupboard and coming over to greet Louis like he usually does.

Louis pouts to himself, eyebrows furrowing in mild annoyance as he clambers off the sofa, feet slipping a little as he slowly pads his way across the tiles to find Harry in the kitchen. “Took your time,” He huffs, leaning back against the washing machine, arms folded across his chest as Harry lugs a couple of carrier bags up onto the table top between them.

“Thought we might try something a bit different later,” He tells Louis, ignoring the look he’s getting from him as he pulls out a box and slides it across the table towards Louis.

It’s black, little silvery fleck of ice coating each side but as Louis peers over he can still tell what the fluorescent lettering spells out. “I’ve had popsicles hundreds of times before, Harry.”

“Not up your arse you haven’t.” He hums, blasé, as he empties out the rest of the bags.

Louis chokes on the stagnant air lingering between them.

“Excuse me?”

Harry chuckles (mainly to himself because if there’s one thing Louis isn’t doing right now, it’s laughing) grabbing the popsicles from the table and putting them into the freezer along with half a chicken and some bread. “You can say no,” He smiles sheepishly. “Just thought it might be fun.”

“Harry, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” Louis whines, voice high pitched as he throws his hands up in mild annoyance. “Well, I mean, I got the general gist but if you could maybe elaborate.”

Harry pulls out one of the dining chairs in front of him, gesturing for Louis to do the same as he sits down, placing his hands down flat on the table top in front of Louis, waiting for him to take hold of them and lace their fingers together before he speaks. “I saw this thing, online,” He says, watching as Louis nods slightly, raising his eyebrow for him to continue. “This guy had some popsicles right, and he was like, well he was fucking this girl with them and that was pretty hot as it was but then when he took it out it’d like, yano melted. Inside her,” Harry pauses, shivering at the memory. “Then he just ate it right out of her like it was still on the stick and, god, Lou. It was so hot I wasn’t even watching it properly, just couldn’t stop thinking about how hot _you’d_ look like that, all stretched out and open for me with fruity Popsicle juice running out of you. How good you’d taste.” He lets out a deep breath through his nose, eyes slipping shut as he licks his lips.

“Yes,”

Harry’s eyes fly open, wide and staring at Louis. “What?”

Louis sighs, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “I said yes, as in yes I would very much like for you to fuck me with some fruity ice on a stick.” And then, “How long do they need to be in the freezer for?” When Harry doesn’t say anything in lieu of staring at Louis, still wide eyed and slack jawed.

“They don’t, they don’t. I just put them there because I thought you would say no, fuck, Lou. Are you serious? I’m so excited, let’s go right now, come on. Please, Lou m’ready.” Harry babbles, chair making a shrieking noise as he pushes it across the floor, scrabbling to get up and over to the freezer as fast as he can.

Half a dozen microwave meals and a chicken pot pie clatter onto the floor around his bare feet as he yanks the Popsicle box out, little shards of ice scattering across the floor but Harry doesn’t care, doesn’t even stop to close the freezer properly before he’s grabbing Louis’ wrist, mumbling _come on come on come on_ as he pulls him towards the stairs.

“Harry, there’s shit all over the kitchen floor and it’s gonna melt.” Louis groans, coming to a stop as best he can.

“I don’t _care_ ,” Harry hisses, pulling Louis across the kitchen on his socks, ignoring his protesting whines. “We’re _rich_ , Louis. I don’t care about some £2 microwave meals when I could’ve been three fingers and a Popsicle deep in your arse five minutes ago now _come on_.”

Louis lets himself be dragged away from the mess, sparing a vague glance at the little puddle forming in front of the fridge, a sad smile on his face. “W’s gonna have one of those for tea,” He mumbles.

Harry sighs, muttering something about cooking them something nice as he tightens his fingers around Louis’ wrist, dragging him through the bedroom door and ushering him towards the bed as he kicks the door shut behind them to keep Jay’s cat out because it’s only been staying with them for 6 days so far but it’s already got into the bath with them twice _and_ tried to sit on Louis’ lap while he was getting a blow job. Harry thinks they deserve some peace and quiet this time.

Somewhere along the way Harry’s already lost his shirt and his jeans are popped open, trail of thick black hairs spattered under his belly button, disappearing below the denim. Louis watches as he fits his thumbs into the waist band, shoving both his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion, stumbling only a little as he tries to step out of them.

Louis moves to do the same, hitching his hips up off the mattress to slide his boxers down over his bum but Harry groans, making Louis flick his eyes up to see him, eyes dark, cock half hard against his thigh, curls fluffing as he shakes his head. “No, don’t” He says, voice gravelled with arousal. “Leave them on. Turn over.” He demands, jerking himself roughly a few times as he makes his way closer, reaching out to push at Louis’ hip, rolling him onto his front. “Good,” Harry whispers, breath hitching as he trails two fingers down Louis’ back, touch feather light over his bum. “Knees underneath, babe.”

The smile is evident in his voice and Louis can feel Harry’s prick digging into his bum cheek as he rearranges himself, pulling his legs up under him so that his arse is pushed out, back arched sinfully under Harry’s ratty shirt.

“Gorgeous,” Harry whispers breathily, warm hands slipping up under the fabric of the shirt, rucking it up under Louis’ armpits until he moves his arms, letting Harry slide it off over his head, tossing it to the floor somewhere near the wardrobe. “Look so beautiful like this, babe.”

He leans forward, pressing his dry lips to the bottom of Louis’ spine, whispering nonsensical praises there until the skin is hot and flush, damp with his breath and Louis is sweaty and squirming underneath him.

Harry pulls back suddenly, giving Louis no time to collect himself before his palm is coming down quickly onto Louis ass, sharp smacking sound ringing through the room and Louis groans, strong stinging sensation ripping through his body, nerve endings lighting up, barely having time to catch his breath before there’s a similar sensation at the other cheek, the back of Harry’s hand slapping down hard against his ass, one, two, three, four more times.

“Haz, fuck.” Louis pants, voice barely more than a whisper, breath leaving him in short sharp puffs as he fights to calm himself, trying to ignore the way the fabric of his boxers is rubbing against the reddening skin of his ass, torn between wanting to keep them on and taking them off, pain and pleasure.

He’s barely even concentrating anymore, barely coherent enough to register Harry sliding the boxers down over his ass, the delicious drag of the cotton against his inflamed skin making his breath hitch, a moan getting caught in his throat.

“God, Lou. Look at you,” Harry says, voice barely above a whisper as he pushes Louis’ boxers down to his knees, leaving them there as his big palms come up to smooth over the hot skin, spreading him open as little as he goes.

Louis keens, arching his back further, pushing his ass out more, kicking off his boxers to spread his legs as much as he can, exposing himself to Harry.

“Beautiful,” He hears Harry whisper before there’s a dry finger prodding at his rim.

Louis shudders, burying his face into the duvet beneath him as he feels Harry spread him open, hot air ghosting over his hole before hot wet pressure, vibrations spilling through him as Harry moans at the taste, tongue flicking out to give him tiny tentative licks.

“Gonna open you up real good, okay babe?” He tells Louis, lips still pressed against his rim as he snicks open the lube, drizzling some out over his fingers, rubbing his hands together to warm it up before he smacks both palms down against Louis’ cheeks again with a wet slap.

“Fuck,” Louis groans, slinking further into the mattress, pushing his arse up towards Harry, silently begging.

Harry grins to himself, giving Louis’ cheeks a firm squeeze before he pulls them open, taking a brief moment to give him a quick once over before he delves back in, pointed tongue poking at Louis’ pink hole as he spreads him wider, revelling in the noises spilling breathlessly from his lips and getting lost into the bed sheets, watching as Louis fists his little hands into the pillows, tugging relentlessly as Harry works him open.

“ _Please_ ,” He hears Louis whisper, voice breathy and high pitched, barely audible over the wet slick of Harry’s tongue working inside him. “Please,” He repeats with a little cough. “M’ready.”

He isn’t, not yet. Harry knows this as well as Louis himself, has eaten him out enough times to know that he’s barely even ready when they’ve been going a good 40 minutes and Harry’s jaw is aching something wild, fat tears brimming Louis’ eyes.

Today is different though, so he’ll let him off this time.

“Yeah?” Harry questions, sitting back on his haunches, groaning internally at the sight of his boy, spit slick and spread open in front of him. “Gonna take a finger, babe?” He questions, running a single lubed up finger from the top of Louis’ ass to the bottom, pausing briefly as he nudges the edge of his puckered rim.

Louis nods enthusiastically, hair fluffing against the bed as he groans, wiggling his hips.

“Alright, alright,” Harry says with a little laugh, drizzling a little more lube over his fingers before he pushes in his pointer, the two of them gasping in sync as Louis’ rim meets his first knuckle. “Take me so well, babe.” He whispers into Louis’ ear as he leans forward, plastering his front to Louis’ back, pushing his finger all the way in, pressing their lips together awkwardly, swallowing Louis’ moan.

“Think you can take two?” Harry asks after a few pumps, Louis’ hole loosening around him a little more each time.

Louis nods, whimpering a little as the tip of Harry’s middle finger brushes against him a few times before he pushes it in beside the first one, tantalizingly slow, pushing and pushing until he’s down to the last knuckle, two fingers snugly inside him.

“So good for me, babe” He whispers, a faint hint of awe to his voice as he starts to scissor his fingers, rough skin dragging inside Louis with each movement, doesn’t stop until he can hold Louis open a little, ducking back in to press his tongue between his fingers, getting one final taste of him before he pulls his fingers out with a wet pop, Louis whining at the loss, his hole clenching around nothing as he reaches his hand back towards Harry, trying to draw him back in.

“ _Harry_ ,” He whines, brows furrowing as he watches Harry clamber off the bed, walking over to the dresser by the door to grab the popsicles, ripping the top flap off as he stumbles back towards the bed, emptying the contents onto the duvet besides Louis’ leg.

“What flavour?” He asks pensively, running his fingers through the pile of lollies, inspecting each one in turn.

Louis groans, flipping his leg up to kick Harry in the back. “I don’t give a _shit_ ,” He whines. “Just hurry up would you, use that red one there.”

“But I don’t like Strawberry that much,” Harry pouts.

“Alright, the purple one then or the green one, I don’t care, just want it in me.” Louis hisses, rocking his hips so that the side of his bare thigh is pressed up against Harry’s bicep, the hot flesh rubbing together softly so that Harry’s breath hitches and he rushes to grab a bright blue lolly, pushing the rest to the floor unceremoniously.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut tight, panting as he listens to the ripping of the wrapper, hears Harry crumple it in his fist before tossing it down the side of the bed somewhere for them to find later, heart fluttering in his chest as he feels Harry knee his way closer to him, shuffling forward until Louis’ toes are curled against the front of his thighs.

“You ready?” He asks, smoothing a palm over his ass cheek, spreading him a little, thumb rubbing in little circles beside his hole; already loose and open, wet from Harry’s tongue.

“I’m ready,” Louis says, the last few letters lost to a gasp as the ice cold tip of the popsicle presses against his hole, can’t stop himself from crying out as he clenches around it, tight enough that it slips straight back out again. “S’cold,” He whimpers, shivering despite the heat of the room.

“I know, baby, I know.” Harry says; pressing a dry kiss to the bottom of his spine, whispering as he says “Gonna try again now, okay?” not waiting for a reply before he slips two fingers back inside Louis, still slick and wet, stretched open from before.

He gasps out an _okay_ , groaning softly as he feels Harry spread his fingers inside him, as wide as he can, before there’s a drip of ice water slipping down his crack and then the cold press of ice against him again, sliding in further this time with the aid of Harry’s fingers holding him open.

“Shit,” Harry breathes out, pulling his fingers out slowly as he pushes the popsicle further inside Louis, doesn’t stop until his rim is stretched tight around the widest part, leaves it there for a few moments until it starts to get properly slick, like it would if it was in his mouth instead of his boyfriends arse, and there are a few drips of bright blue liquid already spreading into the white bed sheets underneath them.

“Move it,” Louis sputters, fingers tightening in the duvet. “Move it, _please_ , c’n feel in melting, god.”

Harry laughs, petting Louis hip before he twists the stick a little, swirling the popsicle around inside him before pulling it out with a wet pop, watching, mesmerised as a stream of blue liquid slips from his hole, trickling hotly down the back of Louis’ thighs, pooling in the dips at the backs of his knees.

“Oh _god_ ,” Harry groans, chasing the liquid with his thumb, pushing at it until he manages to push some back into Louis’ hole, popping his thumb in after, keeping it there as he darts forward to run the tip of his tongue up the blue tinged flesh of Louis’ thighs, chasing the taste until his lips meet his thumb, licking shortly around Louis’ rim, moaning at the way the musty taste of Louis mixes with the sharp tang of bubble-gum.

He pulls his thumb out quickly, pushing at Louis between the shoulder blades until he collapses onto the bed, face smushed into the pillow, whining pathetically as he pushes his arse back out at Harry.

He can just about make out the words, _more, more, more,_ spilling brokenly from Louis lips as he spreads him open again, holding the slippery stick above his hole, letting a few cool drips fall inside him before he leans forward, sticky lips pressing softly against his sweet, sweet hole, tongue dipping inside briefly before he pulls back a little to lick a broad stripe across his rim, tongue flat at hot against him, two, three, four times before he prods the tip of his tongue back in, searching around for any remaining taste of the bubble-gum, moaning softly when all he can taste is Louis.

There’s a brief moment, always is when he’s eating Louis out, that he completely forgets about everything else, forgets about the melting food that he left on the floor in front of the freezer downstairs and forgets that he needs to re-arranged that meeting with Management he’s supposed to go to tomorrow, even momentarily forgets to stop breathing, but unfortunately that also means that he forgets about the sticky popsicle clasped between his fingers, letting go of it without a second thought in lieu of planning both hands firmly on Louis’ ass cheeks and spreading him open, licking into him in earnest, moving his entire face around until his nose and chin are wet with spit, only stopping when he hears Louis squeal, feels him flinch underneath him.

“W’assit?” He grumbles, voice deep and gravelly, as he pulls back to sit on his haunches, running a finger over Louis’ slick rim, watching it clench.

“Fuckin’ popsicle, you knob.”

Harry mumbles something that sounds awfully like _bollocks_ under his breath, scrambling around in the duvet for the popsicle, well on its way to fully melted by now. “Looks like we’re gonna have to chuck this bedding when we’re done,” He muses, and then “Roll over.” He says, patting Louis’ hip, giving him a little shove so that he falls onto his back, watching as he rearranges himself against the pillows, feet propped up either side of Harry, his legs falling open when Harry reaches forward and trails the wet point of the popsicle down the jut of his hipbone.

“Gonna fuck you now, okay?” He asks, leaning his body forwards, pressing his lips against Louis’, wet and dirty, mouth still sticky and tasting faintly of bubble-gum.

They stay like that, sweaty torsos smushed together, cocks rubbing wetly against each other, for a few minutes before Louis pulls back, lips spit slick, chest heaving with laboured breaths. It’s hot in the room, the stagnant air heating the ice in Harry’s fingers, dripping down his arm, pooling in the dip of his elbows.

He watches as Louis’ eyes flick over to his fingers as he leans fowards, taking Harry’s arm in his hands as he moves, pressing a kiss against the blue dribbles there, tongue darting out to lick at the sweetness, trailing his lips up the length of his forearm until he reaches Harry’s fingers, lapping at them until he’s satisfied all he can taste there is Harry.

As Louis takes his little finger between his lips, sucking gently, Harry forces himself to tear his gaze away instead, glancing down between them, grabbing his prick with his free hand and lining himself up with Louis’ hole before he starts to push in slow, grinning when Louis bites down on his finger, groaning around it.

“ _Jesus_ ,” He mutters, letting Harry’s finger slip out from between his lips as he tips his head back, long column of his throat exposed and there isn’t much Harry loves more than the way Louis’ neck vibrates with his moans under Harry’s lips when he presses them there, kissing his way down his throat, across his collar bones, sucking softly until he’s satisfied Louis will be adequately marked up later on and then moving back up, pressing his lips firmly against Louis’ own, hot and dirty and wet with melted ice. “Taste good.”

Harry hums, smirking to himself when Louis’ eyes flutter shut as he starts to move, pushing himself in and out of Louis at an even rhythm, the two of them panting in sync.

“Would you fucking _move_ that,” Louis grits out, clenching down around Harry’s prick as a few drops of liquid drip onto his shoulder.

“Yeah?” Harry quips. “You wan’ it?”

Louis nods, gritting his teeth as he swivels his hips, trying to meet Harry’s thrusts.

“Gonna give it to you then, babe.” He grins, releasing his firm grip on Louis hip, allowing himself a fleeting moment to run his fingertips over the little indents he’s made there, before bringing his hand up to thumb at Louis’ plush bottom lip, pulling at it slightly until his mouth falls open enough that he can lean across and slide the little bit of lolly remaining between Louis’ lips, his eyes widening as he starts to suck on it, cheeks hollowing obscenely around it.

“God, Lou, look at you,” Harry breathes, hips stuttering a little as he continues to thrust into Louis, leaning forwards to lick at the corner of his mouth, chasing some of the escaping blue liquid, trapping Louis’ cock between them.

It’s barely a few minutes until its fully melted, Louis panting out a moan as he lets the stick fall out from between his lips, landing somewhere on the bed.

“Gorgeous,” Harry groans, leaning fully over Louis to properly capture his lips with his own, blue stained and sticky, tasting completely of the sweet blue liquid as Harry kisses it away, keeps his hips moving as he starts to taste _Louis_ again. “M’close.”

“Me too,” He breathes, clawing at Harry’s back as he wraps a leg around his waist, holding them flush together, keeping Harry deep inside him as his cock starts to pulse, filling Louis up as he cums.

He starts to pull out, fingers wrapping tightly around Louis’ prick until he swats him away, pulling Harry back in with his ankle, whispering “wanna cum like this” against his lips and if Harry hadn’t just cum seconds ago that would’ve done it for him.

He keeps his hips flush against Louis’ bum, swivelling his hips a little, brushing against Louis’ prostate incessantly until he feels him clench around him as he starts to cum too, back arching up off the bed as he wraps his arms tightly around Harry’s neck, his release streaking up between them, messy and dirty, just the way he likes it.

“Haz,” He breathes out, laughing a little as he falls back onto the bed, legs falling open around Harry as he pulls out, wincing a little, but grinning nonetheless. “C’mere.”

“Gotta clean you up,” Harry says, shaking his head as he starts to climb off the bed.

Louis whines, making grabby hands at him until he sighs, kneeing his way back onto the bed and settling in Louis’ arms, scrunching his nose as his arm settles across the mess on his chest.

“Stop moaning, god.” Louis grumbles, grabbing the corner of the duvet and scrubbing it over his stomach, ignoring the way Harry whines low in his throat. “Doesn’t matter if we’re throwing it out anyway, does it.” Louis reminds him, glancing down at the blue puddle between his legs.

“Mmm, good point.” Harry yawns, nuzzling his nose into Louis’ neck, pressing a small kiss there before his eyes drop shut and he slings a leg across his hip, caging him in.

It’s quiet for a long while, the TV is still playing low in the living room and every so often Jay’s cat comes to scratch at the door, the freezer still beeping downstairs.

“You know,” Louis says quietly, waiting for Harry to open an eye and glare at him before he continues. “I’m still mad about the pot pies.”

He thinks he deserves the slap he gets in the balls.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://larrytrash.tumblr.com/) if you want.


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